Wingabby is around nine hundred kilometres from Sydney with a population of seven thousand and nearly as many birds, or so Estelle tells me, adding that the region is also famous for its orange trees. Every big city teaching hospital has a rural sister hospital, all in the spirit of helping out our smaller hospital siblings. In keeping with that spirit, the consultants refuse to go anywhere near the place, so junior doctors are sent to represent the hospital instead. The hospital newsletter always has photos of smiling city doctors standing with local Wingabby council members, proudly proclaiming what a great addition we make to the rural community. Max, on seeing one such photo, told me that he slept with one of the doctors in the picture and knew for a fact that the city doctors were only smiling because they were all high when it was taken.

‘It can’t be that bad,’ Estelle says with an optimism that is clearly forced. ‘I think it’ll be fun to work somewhere different for a change. Everyone here is so obsessed with status. It’ll be nice in the country. Surely they’re a bit more relaxed out there.’

Our conversation is interrupted by the Joker calling to inform me that my show of ignorance at the meeting has reflected poorly on him, and that I need to go to the ward to discuss with him how I can improve myself. I sigh.

‘See you on Saturday, mate,’ I say to Estelle, reluctantly standing to go back to hell.

Maybe Estelle’s right, I muse as I take the lift to the ward, where the Joker and the Smiling Assassin are waiting to administer my daily flogging. Wingabby could be a bit of a relaxing tree change, a chance to recharge the batteries.

The Joker pushes past me as I enter the ward. He looks annoyed. ‘There’s been a problem in theatres—get out of my way,’ he snaps. ‘We’ll have to do teaching later. Go and round with the registrar.’

My momentary reprieve is short-lived as I realise the Smiling Assassin is waiting for me.

‘God, I wish I was anywhere but here,’ I mutter to Lawrence as we wrestle with the printer to sort out the patient list. ‘I can’t believe my next stop is the middle of nowhere for three months.’

‘Where would you go instead?’ he asks.

I let my mind transport me to all the places I dream about. ‘I really like the south of France,’ I say, considering. ‘I’ve been there once, and I loved it.’

‘The list is missing the new patients who came in overnight.’

Lawrence and I snap to attention to see the Smiling Assassin bearing down on us.

‘Sorry,’ Lawrence says, kindly taking the bullet. ‘I was distracting Dr Holliday by asking her which part of the world she’d most like to visit.’

‘Oh, yes?’ She looks up. ‘Where?’